


Growing Pains

by thebigbengal



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Post-Season/Series 02, Pre-Season/Series 03, poor bobby needs more friends, prologue at the end, with a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 11:44:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13589358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebigbengal/pseuds/thebigbengal
Summary: Bobby struggles to adjust to the loss of his father and everything else that's hit him those past weeks. Luckily, he doesn't have to go it alone.





	Growing Pains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bold_seer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bold_seer/gifts).



Bobby woke up to his mother wailing in the living room, military men barely holding her up. The hangover from last night’s party with Mike and Shelly quickly subsided with the unmistakable dread that filled the air. His mother fell into his arms, sobbing his name over and over, and the superior officer among the men placed a lone hand on Bobby’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, son. Your father passed away last night in a fire that burned down his station.”

Bobby nodded and gently stroked his mother’s back. The men further gave their condolences and promises to help as much as possible, then promptly left. Bobby stood there in the living room, his mother limp against his chest, and still comprehending the news. His father is dead, and not long after they’d just gotten him back from wherever he disappeared to and escaped from, fully dressed in pilot gear and unclear on what occurred to him. Bobby felt like he’d been spun around, blindfolded, and tossed into a thick fog, and after finally gaining some kind of direction from business with Ben and Audrey Horne, the talk with his father, and of course, Shelly.

The weight pulled him down and even threatened to take his mind back to Laura. Blame clouded his head, he wasn’t even entirely sure why. Bobby coaxed his mother over to the couch, where they sat for the rest of the morning.

 

* * *

 

Major Garland Briggs wasn’t the only loss the town had suffered that morning. Agent Cooper disappeared without so much as a trace or warning, something, apparently to Bobby, uncharacteristic of him. The entire sheriff’s department, Sheriff Truman in particular, had been spreading themselves thin and weary, and by word of mouth, some towns folk stepped up to aid in the search, including the FBI themselves since it concerns them directly.

Bobby had complicated feelings towards Agent Cooper, or any law-enforcer, and the reasons why were hardly a secret or a surprise to anyone that so much as glanced at Bobby Briggs. The words spoken to him during that interrogation the day they found Laura left harsh bruises he hastily hid away and tried desperately to ignore. Bobby was upset with the man, definitely, but in retrospect, he _was_ a suspect and it is the agent’s job. Agent Cooper had also forged a great respect and friendship with his father, Garland, so that had to amount to something.

_Geez, who hadn’t become friends with this guy?_

Agent Cooper had earned smiles, laughs, and favors from just about everyone in town, but most of all, Sheriff Truman. There was hardly a moment where the two weren’t seen working together, even just spending a minute of their time chatting over coffee and pie. A clear twinkle in Truman’s eye set Bobby’s stomach on spin cycle. Back then, he couldn’t care less about any of that, no matter how much his father babbled about it at the dinner table, how great a pair Agent Cooper and Sheriff Truman made. Today, a quick glance of the Sheriff from across the street was enough to show that twinkle had gone out, swiftly and painfully, but the spinning in Bobby’s stomach didn’t stop. Years of complaints and headaches Bobby caused his local law enforcers came flooding back, and momentarily, he couldn’t help but feel he had deserved Agent Cooper’s verbal beat down.

Bobby entered the RR diner, and was greeted with a barrage of apologies and pats on the back, singing praise for his father and sympathy for the family. Shelly wrapped around him like a snake, her long hair mopping his face, and she planted a long, sweet kiss to his lips, which he drank in every second of. Though the diner was booming with business and gossip, he and Shelly stood in solitude, melting into one another. Bobby hesitated to pull away. He kissed her ear and asked to see her sometime later, whenever that may be. Shelly agreed, telling him to take as long as he needs, and returned to her post alongside a crestfallen Norma.

Escaping out into the open air, Bobby spotted a police car slowly pull in to it’s parking space. Out stepped Deputy Hawk Hill. Through force of habit, he braced for a lecture or a cold pair of cuffs clipping his wrists, but instead found a hard, but understanding hand clasping his shoulder. “I’ve heard about your father, Bobby. I’m very sorry. He was a great man and a great companion at the station.”

Not that Bobby needed to be told that once more, but it somehow helped in a strange way to have it reaffirmed. He managed a half-hearted smile, thanked the officer, and walked off down the road, opposite the school campus. Hawk might have stopped to correct him had that familiar sunken face not made a hole in him.

Down the sidewalk and out of sight, over a fallen fence, and up the steep incline into the forest that cradled the town of Twin Peaks. Though he didn’t take the conventional entrance, the path revealed itself through years of overgrowth of ferns, vines, and bushes; Bobby knew the way better than the back of his hand, even if he hadn’t scaled the path since the more innocent times of his youth.

They were so distant now, like the dulling hums of cars and trucks dragging through the town’s barely-up-kept streets. Civilization became a fading memory, knocked from it’s seat of power by the uncontrolled, but serene and majestic flora Bobby weaved through. Douglas Fir needles fanned overhead, painting patterns of sunlight on the forest floor. Bird calls and sounds of small animals scattering past bounced off the colossal trees and died down the mountain side.

The beauty of the whole countryside astounded Bobby, like he had never walked these trails before and absorbed all they had to offer. He’d been through a nature trail plenty of times before, but always for other reasons he wasn’t particularly proud of now looking back - yet another thing that astounded him. He wasn’t heading for a drug deal, or a sleazy get-together with Leo and his buds and… Laura at his side. They’d all gone away, that part of him with them. He knew exactly where he was going, a place he and his father had shared in the deepest corners of their hearts, a hushed secret they enjoyed and treasured. Now, Bobby was without his father, too; the man’s absence growing more and more palpable the closer he grew to his destination.

Bobby let his head fall back, eyes pointed to the clear sky, and allowed his instinct to guide his feet. He’d seen Garland do it every time they head up this way. He felt a little silly trying to evoke the man’s intuitive skills after so long of denying them, but his father’s comfort shined through, and he listened. Without looking ahead, he stopped, drew a breath, and basked a little longer, the nostalgic air swimming through his head. Bobby had arrived at their secret place, Jack Rabbit’s Palace.

There stood a castle of broken and hollow Douglas Fir trunks, which Bobby would love to impress his father with when he climbed them and declared himself king, sparking a hearty chortle from the man’s gut and past his dimpled smile. The torn gaps in the bases of the trunks became little refuges where the two Briggs would share stories, both real and fictional; Bobby with his fantasies of far-off kingdoms, fair princesses, and men on the moon, and Garland with his military anecdotes and bizarre dreams that the Palace appeared to sing for in curiosity. And then when it was time to pack up, Bobby would hop up on his father’s shoulders, joining him in hollering out sea shanties until they made it back to the house, where dinner awaited on the table.

The whole area felt generally out of place, and not just because it had been awhile since Bobby’s last visit. It was an isolated speck in a vast ocean that already isolated anyone that entered. But this wasn’t necessarily a negative trait, more of a soothing one; a relaxing sensation brought on by something lying just underneath, or above, waiting to be uncovered. Bobby could see his father’s face, gazing off into the wilderness and the beyond, turning from the man that was his father to Major Garland Briggs, a man with much knowledge in his head and heart, but none of it he could properly share with his family. This frustrated his son beyond measure and, maybe, even pushed him away as he grew. Bobby wanted to slap himself again and again. He’d already thought this throughout the morning and a few times before that, but now he felt he might actually do it.

Garland’s faith in his son never wavered, not once. Even when his tone declared otherwise, the dream he’d spoken of let Bobby know his father always thought much greater of him than Bobby thought of himself. And he wasted that. For so long he’d spat on it and threw it in the trash. What was he trying to do? Fix that by associating with shady businessmen by the likes of Ben Horne? Try and erase all those years of drugs and fights _at all_? He was off that path, but where else could he go? And now Garland was dead, his son lost in the pines, wondering what the hell he could say or do to let him know he’s sorry. If any of that was enough.

And Shelly… he meant what he said to her, that they should get married. But the more he dwelled on it, the less sure he became. What _could_ he do for her? In what ways would he possibly be a good husband? He wasn’t even that grand of a boyfriend to her from the start.

Bobby struggled for breath as tears started to stream, and he hastily wiped them with his jacket sleeve. He wasn’t about to cry, he’d sworn that, but a full month of loss and stress crushed him to his knees and he could almost vomit just to let it all out. He’d never known his father to cry. He couldn’t help but think of what he’d say to him right then and there. And Laura, oh, she’d laugh. She’d laugh at him for being so sentimental and trying to turn over a new leaf, stop getting the good stuff just as she’d died and been put in the ground. _Too little, too late_ , she’d say.

_“You didn’t love her anyway.”_

_Maybe he was right._ Bobby thought. _Maybe I didn’t love her, maybe I didn’t love my father, maybe I don't love Shelly..._

Words of his father Bobby had once passed off slammed back into him with unforgiving force. “One day, you’ll understand this place, son. You’ll understand all that it is and isn’t. It won’t make immediate sense, but with time, something will click, and it will almost be as if you’d known it your whole life.” Bobby couldn’t see how any of that could be true. Right now, he’d felt far from understanding anything in his life and in this world. His father, that legacy, what secrets he held, all so beyond him. The alien nature of Jack Rabbit’s Palace chanted with the wind, it’s language lost on him.

Bobby crumpled and let wave after wave roll over, tears thoroughly soaking his shirt and jacket. He sat under the castle and caught his breath, waves settling to a relieving nothingness. He pulled himself up, fixed up whatever he could of his appearance, and sauntered down the way he came, not looking back.

 

* * *

 

The chatter of police officers caught Bobby’s ear, throwing him off his already faltered guard and nearly sending him flying back up the mountain. Sheriff Truman, looking tired as ever, stood beside Deputy Hill and Deputy Brennan, the “wimpier” cop Bobby would make fun of with Mike. Well, they’d make fun of all of them, but _that one_ in particular for his demeanor. Bobby grimaced at the memory. The officers conversed with an FBI agent Bobby recalled from not long ago after a visit to the station with Shelly. “Get a life, punk!” Granted, that could have been anyone, but the nose and suit definitely stood out.

He guessed they were all exchanging information on Agent Cooper. Bobby slid down the slope to the side of the road, hoping to be too unimportant to notice. “Hey, kid!” The agent called out, “Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?” Bobby didn’t have the will to hightail it. He didn’t see what good it would do other than keep them from immediately seeing his red face. He gave in and slowly turned to the officers, Deputy Hill chiming in.

“Bobby?”

“This the kid you were looking for?”

“Yeah, I saw him head up this way. You shouldn’t run off like that without letting someone know, Bobby. Your mother probably thinks you’re at school right now.”

Bobby shifted where he stood, lowering his hands and rubbing his hair to hide his face, “She said it was alright for me to skip, y’know? I just… wanted to get to some alone time.”

The officers and fellow agent looked to one another, their sullen expressions deepening. Deputy Brennan gulped down a whimper as Hill patted his back, and Truman raised his head to meet Bobby’s eyes. They were fairly red and somewhat sunken themselves, the large hat barely hiding that fact. “Does she know you’re out here?” He said.

“No. Not really.”

“Well, then Deputy Brennan and Deputy Hill will drive you back to your house. Next time, let her know. It’s not right to do this to her at a time like this.” Truman turned back to the agent, whom he and the other officers held a look of mild concern. Bobby approached one of the vehicles, waiting for someone to move and unlock the doors, but no one did. The agent leaned into Truman’s space and expressed a sincerity in his voice unbecoming of a man that sounded so harsh earlier. This seems like a lesson his father would hammer in over breakfast. “First impressions are hardly, if ever, correct.”

“Harry, drive the kid home. Take a breath. We’ve got things covered.”

Truman’s stepped back, equally as bewildered, “Albert, it’s just a drive. I don’t have-”

“Time to take a grieving kid home? Not even twenty minutes away? It's barely been a day and you're already falling apart at the seems. Listen, I’m here, I’ve got my men _and_ yours,” the agent nods to the other officers standing close behind, “We’re all pitching in and a lead is just on the horizon. The whole investigation is not gonna fall to pieces without the daring Sheriff Harry Truman at the helm. Now get in that damn car.”

A burning argument sat on Truman’s tongue, begging for a way out, when Bobby caught his eye over the agent’s shoulder, standing uncomfortably beside the car door, and no longer making an effort to hide his disconcerted face. Truman let his shoulders fall and whatever words he had with it. He nodded, patted the agent’s back, and unlocked the car door. Hill gave his condolences a second time and told Bobby to tell his mother that they send their love. Brennan walked up with a hug prepared, but decided against it after a look from Truman, and did the same as Hill, although much more tearful. The agent didn’t move from his place, but gave Bobby a mournful nod that told him to stay out of trouble. Bobby thanked them all, feeling this time more genuine than the previous times he’s said it. There are a lot of things Bobby did that he once thought wouldn't happen, and finding comfort in his local law enforcement was certainly one of them.

Truman slid into the driver’s seat and Bobby into the passenger’s, getting a slight sense of glee over not being in the back and handcuffed. He quickly snuffed it once Truman turned to him, clearly not amused at anything or anyone, and sighing with frustration and anxiety, which _he_ snuffed out, and the car settled to a loosened silence that invited conversation, but didn’t encourage it or deem it necessary. They pulled into the drive through, and Bobby at last found some words he felt had earned their place, “I’m sorry about Agent Cooper.”

Truman turned in surprise, not an angered surprise like with the FBI agent, but saddened to the point that Bobby nearly regretted saying anything, but he meant it and wanted it to stick. Truman’s eyes fell to the car windshield, then came back half-closed, letting it sink in and gripping at the steering wheel like an anchor. He took his hat off to run his fingers through his tightly curled hair while Bobby looked on. Then, Truman found his own words, “Thank you, Bobby. And I’m sorry about your father. Major Briggs was a valued member of the town and a good friend to us.”

“Yeah… Thank you, Sheriff Truman. Have a good day.” Bobby pulled the lever and slid out until a hand grabbed his wrist and asked him to stay a second longer to hear something incredibly important.

“Bobby, hold on. I know about you getting a job from Ben Horne and, well, not finding you out in the streets running amuck… seems like you’ve been keeping your nose out of trouble.”

“What can I say? People can change, right?”

“That’s right, that’s real good of you.” Bobby turned and nodded, not saying anything else and only wanting to get into the house. He laid his feet down and was ready to bolt. “You’re a good kid at heart, Bobby. We both know this. Your father told us down at the station anytime he got the chance. ‘He’s troubled, but he’ll find his way.’ He’d say. I don’t believe he’s wrong, Bobby.”

Bobby froze in place, falling back into the seat like a brick. Truman had let go of Bobby’s wrist, but he didn’t move his hand. One pair of somber eyes met the other, and it hit how ridiculously unkind that day, that month, has been to the both them.

“You, you and your mother, are his family. If you ever need anything at all, just call. I say this as both a friend and a sheriff.” Truman placed a gentle hand to Bobby’s shoulder. He barely even flinched or looked down, instead keeping to the sheriff’s reassuring gaze. He breathed deeply and pulled a light smile, mouthing a final, overwhelmed, “thank you.” Truman saw Bobby reach his front door, where the boy’s mother hugged him tightly and wave off the sheriff, who drove back to his investigation, sightly recharged in a way he never expected.

 

* * *

 

Lucy had the donuts stacked and organized neatly by flavor on the table and a fresh, hot pot of coffee ready to go by the time the officers returned from patrol. Andy dotted his wife with kisses, sending her giggling and Bobby’s eyes rolling. “Don’t you two ever get sick of one another?” He snickered, and shoved a donut into his mouth. Hawk and Harry followed suit and poured themselves some coffee.

“Don’t be rude, Bobby.” Lucy snapped.

“I’m not, really! The both of you just… astound me.” Bobby took a second donut and sipped down some of his coffee. To think he used to hate the stuff… Now it was just as apart of the routine in his life as keeping a gun and badge on his person. _That_ took some getting used to.

Harry leaned back in his chair, grinning, “Finest couple in all of Twin Peaks! If there’s anything that can break ‘em up, we sure as hell haven’t found it yet.” Andy and Lucy beamed and enjoyed another kiss. The other three officers couldn’t help but to chuckle through their mouthfuls of baked goods. Bobby gazed out of the back windows of the meeting room and into the quiet darkness.

“It was pretty easy tonight, don’t you think? I mean, I don’t think those kids did all that bang-up a job of covering their tracks.”

“Low demand makes for more careless work,” Hawk said, “Once demand goes back up, we have to keep on our toes.”

“Well, luckily I know all the tricks of the trade.” Bobby folded his arms and reclined against the door frame. Harry broke out into a giggle.

“C’mon, Bobby, I think you were far from the kingpin around here.”

“I’m not saying that I _was!_ ” Hawk joined in with Harry and Lucy snickered to a smiling Andy, barely holding himself back as it was. Bobby let them have their fun, the idea did seem rather amusing, after all. They all reached in for another donut and more coffee. Lucy got a second pot started and Andy burned his tongue almost immediately.

The night was filled with chatter over a barrage of different things, work related and not. Lucy was hooked on another sitcom and Harry mentioned he was building something in his backyard.

“Is it another table?” Asked Hawk.

“It’s not another table.”

“So it’s another table, then. You'll need some chairs.”

“I have plenty of chairs.”

Bobby watched the veteran officers go back and forth as Andy leaned in to ask if his daughter, Becky, had anything planned that Saturday.

“Wally was curious if he could come over.”

“Of course! But you know, he _can_ just ask, himself.”

“Yeah, Wally’s just a little shy is all. We’re thinking he’ll grow out of it.”

Bobby smiled, then rolled up his sleeve to check his watch. “Ah, I should be heading off by now. Shelly’s gonna kill me.”

Harry turned to Bobby, “Tell her and Becky we said ‘hello.’”

“As always.” He wished each of them a goodnight and walked out to the parking lot, where he saw his comrades through the open windows, scarfing down yet more pastries and coffee. He’d have to remind himself to arrange for a dinner party some time.

The cool night air shifted up the mountainside with a chill breeze, and stars gleamed overhead. Bobby looked off into the black, sensing exactly the spot in that forest he was searching for. He and his father’s secret still lives there. The feeling of something warm and familiar swept over, and Bobby decided to sway in it for a second longer before driving home. He entertains a thought, then locks it away for later. “Maybe I should take Becky some time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! For bold_seer, who I hope enjoys this fic!


End file.
